My Sister Sam
by Ben Jackson
Summary: Sam and Al leap into a pair of sisters with two different leap objectives, but this seemingly easy job is made more difficult by their new Observer, Edward St. John the Fifth. Part 4 of the Two Leapers series.
1. Chapter 1

Sam and Al's last, near-disastrous leap had almost ended with Sam as a single leaper again, but, well, it did have its upside. Leaping alone had frightened him into thinking he didn't have what it took to right wrongs anymore, but nearly losing Al had foisted him back into that position and reignited his spirit. Not only that, he'd made a very important realization: he wasn't just responsible for himself anymore. They had always been a team, but there are some things only leaping can teach you, which meant _he_ was now the expert and Al was the novice. If his best friend was going to make it as a leaper, Sam was going to have to look out for him, and that meant learning all new lessons of his own.

The last lesson had been a painful reality check as to how dangerous leaping can be, especially when you don't communicate. The next lesson: in leaping, you hardly ever get a chance to stop and catch your breath.

After Al's revival from the dead, the leap-light barely having dispersed, the time travelers' heartfelt reunion was smacked aside by a becurlered woman bursting through the door. "Laura! Kimberly! Are you _still_ not ready? Hurry up or you'll miss the bus!" She pointed sternly at Sam. "And no fighting with your sister over shoes this morning. _Get along_." She slunk out of the room, and Sam and Al faced each other with dawning horror.

"Laura?"

"Kimberly?"

They looked down at their dresses.

"Oh boy!"

Sam's favorite. This was not the first or last time he'd leaped into women's clothing, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He groaned and threw his head back. "Oh no, not a woman again!"

"Not women. _Girls_."

Sam twisted himself around to see Al perplexedly scrutinizing himself in the dresser mirror—well, not himself exactly, the two teenagers they'd hijacked for the time being. He stepped up next to him to get a closer look. They were definitely sisters, but they couldn't appear more different.

Sam was a mousy blonde with minimal makeup, her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She wore a baggy, Navy blue dress, cinched in at the waist with a belt, very modest. That is, except for her shoes, the one piece of her ensemble with any pizzazz: stilettos, lime green. The aforementioned shoes that she'd fought for, he assumed. This indicated to Sam that she wasn't afraid to be adventurous, but preferred to blend into the crowd.

Al's reflection, however, would have a hard time not standing out. A bleach blonde bombshell, all flash, wearing a choker, a tight red dress, and a pair of impossibly tall black wedge shoes. Her hair and makeup were impeccable; she obviously didn't shy away from attention. She'd probably been in heels since she could walk—unlike Al, who was finding it difficult to balance even while standing.

Sam held back a laugh. If she were a little older, she'd be exactly Al's type. He had to be feeling pretty awkward right now. After almost two decades of watching the admiral drool over every gorgeous woman in a fifty mile radius, it was a perfect twist of fate that he now found himself in her stylish, toe-pinching shoes.

"Wow…I don't look half bad!" Al praised, giving himself a good eyeful.

Sam's eyes immediately became slits as he shot him a withering glare. "Al, they're teenagers!"

"And if I was a teenager again, I'd be all over me!" Al shot back with a defensive shrug. Sam continued to scowl judgmentally, and a smidgen of Al splintered with embarrassment. "Hey, I can look at the menu, I just can't order off it."

"What if she was your daughter?"

"I don't have a daughter."

"Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically, she's not my daughter, so what's the problem?"

How foolish of Sam to think Al had any sort of shame. His glower drifted away from his genuinely confused friend, opting to shift the focus to more important matters. For instance, which teenager either of them got saddled with.

The mirror was decorated with polaroids of Al's reflection and various friends hugging each other or pulling faces. Notably, Sam's reflection wasn't featured in any of the many pictures, leading him to wonder how close these sisters were. Did they fight about more than shoes? Eyes scanning downward, he looked for more clues. Amongst girly trinkets, fuzzy pens, perfume, makeup, and various shades of pink, there was a decorative name plaque spelling out 'Kim' in curlicue letters. And as an added bonus, it was topped off with a sparkly crown.

With an amused smirk, Sam displayed the name plaque close to his chest. "Kim," he informed Al.

"Gimme that." Al snatched the plaque away and placed it back on the dresser grumpily. The more it sunk in that he was going to have to be Kim, the less enthusiastic he became. Oh he wasn't just a teenage girl, he was a _princess._

Now that he'd gotten past his reflection's attractiveness, he was becoming increasingly annoyed at his wardrobe. Smoothing out his dress and awkwardly trying to pull it down for more coverage, he wobbled around like a toddler learning how to walk. This was his first time in wedges, after all. "Jeez, how do women wear these things? How am I supposed to walk around without snapping my feet off at the ankles?"

"Practice," Sam stated sagely, arms crossed with a wry smile.

"What're _you_ smirking about, Samantha Plain and Tall?" Al shot back, arm sweeping down Sam's dress to the stilettos filled with his giant, hairy feet.

Unbothered, Sam gave a blasé shrug. "You don't find a certain irony to this situation?"

"In what way?"

"C'mon, Al," Sam said with a slight eye roll, "You're always hitting on women with your sleazy pickup lines, and—"

"Sleazy?" Al repeated, offended.

"Yes, sleazy."

" _Sleazy?_ "

"And now you're going to know exactly how it feels to be on the other side."

"I'll have you know, Sam," Al said, sticking out his chin and stomping haphazardly closer, "I have nothing but _respect_ for every woman I've ever come onto. I'd never go so low as to do anything remotely considered _sleazy."_ He lowered his eyelids and lifted a shoulder. "I happen to have a certain appreciation of the female form; I just don't repress my sexual urges like a certain Boy Scout I know." His hooded eyes focused on him.

"And what about their minds?"

"I like those too."

Oh, Al was in for a rude awakening. He hadn't had as much experience as Sam had being viewed as the opposite sex, but he'd learn. Sam nodded, smirk still firmly in place. "We'll see how you feel by the end of the leap."

"I'll tell you how I'll feel: _sore_ ," Al grumbled, yanking off one of his shoes and chucking it aside.

"I wonder what year it is…" Sam mused, again noting Al's tiny, form-fitting dress, "I'm gonna guess we're far from the 50s…"

"1999," Al stated offhandedly, shucking off his other shoe.

"Huh? How did you know that?" Sam asked with confusion. Was Al gleaning information from the leapee?

"Over there," answered Al as he rooted through the closet, jerking his head toward a calendar on the wall. Huh. He was quickly catching on to working out leap details, Sam noticed. He smirked. It was a throwback now to hear Al exposit information again.

Sure enough, the calendar said 1999. A group of smiling young men in matching outfits posed together for May. "1999," Sam repeated, brows furrowed, "I don't think I've ever leaped that far forward." He couldn't remember leaping further than the day he first stepped into the Accelerator. Was that a coincidence, or were they following Al's timeline again? He was never sure how far into his lifetime he could go. But suddenly distracted, he squinted curiously at the men on the calendar. "Who's NSYNC?"

"Hm?" Al glanced over his shoulder as he slipped on a pair of sneakers, giving an exaggerated frown and shrugging. "Beats me. It's not my age bracket." Sam frowned disapprovingly at the new shoe choice. It felt like Al was cheating.

Before he could protest, their mother's slightly more annoyed voice boomed from downstairs. "You two better get your butts down here before the bus arrives!"

Oh yeah, they'd forgotten they had somewhere they needed to be.

Upon entering the kitchen, Al pulling on a cardigan for more coverage, they found their frazzled mother hurriedly grabbing a couple of bagged lunches. As soon as she spotted them, she stopped and stared at Sam. With confused exasperation, she asked, "Laura, sweetie, where are your glasses?"

Caught off guard, Sam's eyes widened and he pointed at himself. "My— _my_ glasses?" His eyes took a cursory sweep across the kitchen, just in case they were there. "Gee, uh…I must've forgotten them upstairs."

Their mother blinked. "Well hurry up and get them! You're already running late!" Sam jumped to it, bounding unladylike up the stairs. With a tired sigh, the anxious woman tapped her foot and shook her head. "All the brains, but no common sense," she said to Al, who merely nodded in agreement. That was a pretty fair assessment of Sam. She frowned when she spotted Al's shoes. "You're wearing sneakers?"

Oh jeez. He supposed they did look a little bit ridiculous with his dress….but he wasn't gonna put those death traps back on if he could help it. He bounced on his heels and shrugged. "You, uh…never know when you need to run."

"Found them!" proclaimed Sam, now donning a pair of large glasses, as he reentered and nearly bowled over Al.

These two were definitely acting strange. However, there wasn't time for questions about the unusual behavior her daughters were exhibiting. Merely shaking her head, she handed each of them a lunch and pushed them urgently toward the door. "Move your butts! Go go go!" And then, once they were hurrying away, "And try not to fight today!"

It would be hard to restrain themselves from further squabbles over whatever teenage girls squabbled about, but they'd try their best. Sam thought it was interesting they'd leaped into siblings twice in a row, but this leap was a whole different animal. Last time they'd become brothers. This time, they had to learn to act like sisters.

A paper airplane whizzed past Sam and Al's noses and out the window. Loud, boisterous kids shouted and laughed as the two of them weathered the trip to school in the shaky yellow school bus. The drive was maybe fifteen minutes, but to the older men wedged in the tiny seat and surrounded by teens, it seemed an eternity.

It had been a long time since Sam had taken the bus to school, but he didn't remember it being this noisy or misbehaved in his day. His eyes widened. 'In his day'? He was sounding like his father. Had he been leaping so long he was becoming out of touch? That was a frightening thought. How old was he now anyway?

Al had never ridden the bus to school in his life, on account of him living in almost every school he'd been to. The orphanage took them on some trips out, sure, but those were few and far between, and it'd been over fifty years ago on top of that. Plus he wasn't a teenage girl in 1999, so this was a new experience for him. It felt like he was stuffed into a packet of sardines with this crowd, which he wasn't too keen on. But he had other problems to worry about. How were they supposed to know what classes to go to when they got to school? Hopefully Gooshie would have that information handy, or they were gonna look like a coupla dopes.

Yeesh, they were depending on skunk breath now? Al shuddered.

"How the hell am I supposed to get around in this? Good gravy!" Al glanced warily around them at the other students as they exited the bus, grabbing at his mini (emphasis on "mini") dress and doing his best to keep his goods covered. This was not how he pictured his 60s, that was for sure.

"You'll get used to it, Al," said Sam, smacking his hand away, "Stop pulling at it." He was going to earn them unwanted attention, and Sam wanted to make sure everything went as smooth as possible this leap. He wasn't going to let things go as badly as they did last time. Not that he was worried about getting shot this leap…yet.

"Why did _you_ get the conservative sister?"

A shrug. "Just lucky, I guess."

Al glared.

Realizing he wasn't helping the situation, Sam decided to be a little more reassuring. After all, he'd leaped into far more revealing outfits and compromising situations. "Relax, Al," Sam said encouragingly, "You're gonna be fine. No one sees you as you but me." Feeling slightly better, Al gave a small nod—but he still rubbed his head to get rid of his sudden headache.

 _Clunk-shoom!_

"…and Lord Halitosis," Al pointed out, and Sam tried not to laugh. But when they turned toward the sound of the Imaging Chamber, who they saw wasn't their befuddled programmer.

Out of the white rectangle stepped an older gentleman with matching white hair, dressed in an ugly brown suit and a confused expression not dissimilar to Gooshie's. He clutched the handlink in both hands as he peered around his holographic environment, his face coming to life when he spotted the nonplussed leapers watching him.

"Ah, there you are," he said pleasantly in an English accent, straightening up and closing the door with ease, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Samuel, Albert." He nodded toward each of them. Then, with a genial smile, "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is St. John," he pronounced it 'Sinjun,' "Edward St. John the Fifth, and I'll be serving as your new Observer."

Oh boy.

Al looked like he'd just smelled something unpleasant. He might've thought Gooshie was a twerp, but already he could tell he wasn't gonna like this guy. What was he thinking with that _suit_? Yuck! Al cast a look toward Sam, who stared at St. John with furrowed brows.

Sam knew him. He didn't know how, but he knew him, and he somehow wished he didn't. The man gave him an uneasy, ill feeling, like…like walking over someone's grave. Whose, he couldn't recall. Even though he was a hologram, he wanted to keep his distance from him. He wished he could pinpoint why he felt this unsettling familiarity.

For a time the men stood there in awkward silence, St. John with his grin and Sam and Al with unpleasant surprise. Then, gazing at the students around them, St. John leaned in secretively. "It would be prudent of us to step away from prying eyes, hm? After all, discretion is the better part of valor."

Once again, Al shot Sam a look of disdain.

Having found a tree out of the way from most of the students, the three of them were able to speak more freely. Al took full advantage of his ability to do so, spinning around to face their new hologram. "So Slim Jim—"

"Sinjun."

" _Sinjun_ , right," Al said, sneeringly copying his pronunciation, "I see you've got a handlink there, but I'm still not sure who the hell you are."

"Oh dear," St. John said with worry, tilting his head, "I don't suppose this is what they call, er—'swiss cheesing'? Am I going to have to explain everything to you? This could take some time." He sighed, straightening out the lapels of his dated jacket. "Very well. I am a hologram tuned into the mesons and neurons—"

"We know all that, St. John," Sam raised his hands and cut him off. Boy, this guy was already exhausting. "We just don't know who _you_ are."

"Yeah, I sure as hell don't remember seeing you at the Project."

"Well of course you don't," St. John stated obviously with a few blinks, "This is the first time we've met." Al seemed slightly relieved, but Sam still couldn't shake his sense that this wasn't their first encounter. He'd met him _somewhere_. "Shortly after the program was reinstated, I was hired by Senator Weitzman to serve as an advisor on how best to proceed with Project Quantum Leap."

"I knew it!" Al exclaimed with suspicion. There it was. No wonder he'd smelled a rat. He squinted and tapped his nose with his finger. "This has got Weitzman's stink all over it."

"I beg your pardon?"

An advisor? Ugh. Just what they needed. Sam supposed Weitzman was too busy to impose every arbitrary rule himself. Maybe that's why St. John had given him such a bad feeling. This new direction the Project was taking was troubling, especially since neither he nor Al had any power to do anything about it. Sam tried to shake it off for now. It was actually slightly relieving to know that was the reason behind his strange apprehension around the new hologram. He wasn't sure how he felt about having an "advisor" at the Project, but as long as he was around, he had to trust that the rest of the team could keep his work safe from Weitzman's interference. That is, if he still had "the rest."

"What happened to Gooshie?" Sam asked with concern. He and Sammy Jo had taken a considerable risk by going against the Committee's restrictions to help him and Al. "He didn't get fired for breaking the rules last leap, did he?"

St. John's eyebrows shot up. "Goodness, no," he answered, "He's back at work as the head programmer." Sam's stomach unclenched with relief. "Mr. Gushman was always intended as a temporary Observer until a qualified person could fill the position. Surely he told you that?"

"Funny how once I'm stuck in time, suddenly they're able to fix those connection issues that kept me from taking a vacation for seven years…" Al grumbled under his breath, scratching his cheek.

St. John nodded in acknowledgement. "Yes, well, sadly its imperfect. The Imaging Chamber was designed around you and Dr. Beckett, so connecting anyone else to both of you is an enormous drain of power." He sniffed and took out the handlink from his jacket. "Which means that, unfortunately, the role we can play is greatly reduced. So shall we?"

Neither of them would be against seeing less of St. John, but the prospect of having less help from the Project was worrisome. Leaping was hazardous enough as it was. But then again, they'd spent most of last leap without any of their help thanks to Weitzman and the Committee, so there was nowhere to go from there but upwards. And now that Sam was piecing some of this together…he couldn't help but feel a little smug.

Projecting a false face of seriousness with a heaping helping of superiority, Sam asked, "Hang on. Just what _did_ happen after they went against Weitzman's orders last leap? Aren't we still in trouble, or…?"

For the first time, St. John lost a bit of his composure. With some embarrassment, he explained, "Well, it was determined that in some cases, such as life or death scenarios, it would become...necessary to break certain rules. And…as such, any potential charges were dismissed."

Now Sam had a big, fat grin on his face. "Weitzman realized they're the only ones besides me and Al who understand how it works, didn't he?"

Al burst into laughter. "Ha ha! Oh that's too good! Weitzman's gotta be blowing a gasket knowing he's got control of the Project and we're _still_ in charge!"

St. John was flabbergasted. "I see no need for such childish behavior."

"What's the matter, Jeeves? Can't take a little joke?"

"Are you _always_ this insufferable?"

"Only with special cases like you."

Sam placed himself between the grinning Al and their new hologram. Ha, as if somehow a brawl could break out between the two of them. But enough was enough, and they did have a leap to attend to. He didn't like it, but they were going to have to work together. "Okay okay okay, let's cool it. Do you know why we leapt in?"

St. John was back to his normal composure, if still slightly miffed. "Not as of yet, no." He lifted the handlink to read the information. "It's May 22nd, 1999. You and Albert have leaped into Laura and Kimberly Matheson, both seniors here at Lincoln High School. Kimberly is 18 and Laura is 17; she skipped the seventh grade. Until we can determine the reason for the leap, I will give you your schedules and you are to go to classes as normal. Understood?"

He had all the excitement of a textbook and exuded about as much authority. Having him as their Observer was going to take some going used to. Al leaned in toward Sam. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Gooshie."

Now that Al thought about it, this was his first time in a public high school as well. The lack of nuns was a nice touch from his previous school days. There was a freedom here that would've been refreshing had he not felt oddly closed in.

From the moment he and Sam walked in the doors, he could feel people's eyes on him, an unusual amount, and he didn't think it was because of him being a man in a dress. Sure, before he was a leaper he garnered plenty of attention for his flashy outfits, but he wasn't used to this kind of scrutiny. Why did he have to leap into Miss Popularity? Kids waved and greeted him as he tried to keep to himself. This was humiliating! He'd gone to space and now he was reduced to this. Ugh. At least he looked cute.

So here was the plan. Stick with Sam, keep his head down, and try to avoid as much attention as he could. After all, the kid knew what he was doing, and at least with him around he wasn't the only guy in makeup. They were just making a beeline for the lockers when—and he swore he almost heard the _Jaws_ music—a couple of ditzy teenage girls slid in from out of nowhere.

The redhead in a tight leather skirt spoke first. "Keep Ashley and me waiting, why don't you?" she said to Al.

"You would not _believe_ what we heard about Caitlin, she-" The blonde with the high ponytail—Ashley, he guessed—stopped herself, as if noticing Sam for the first time. She joined the redhead in staring at him with disgust, folding their arms and waiting.

Confused silence.

" _Ahem_ ," Ashley said pointedly, "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Puzzled, Sam pointed at himself. "Me?"

"No, some other freakazoid." Ashley rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you. Why don't you go read the dictionary or whatever it is you nerds like to do?"

" _Nerd_?" A perplexed Sam leaned his head forward. Was she serious?

This exchange seemed to barely register with the two girls, who took Al by the elbows and positioned him away from Sam. "Jenny, tell Kim what we heard."

As the girls began to gab about whatever gossip they thought was interesting, Al craned his head back toward Sam, only to find his escape awkwardly sidling away. His eyes widened with panic upon realizing he was about to be abandoned with two teenage chatterboxes. "Hey, Sa—hey, wait! Don't leave me!"

Sam only responded with a "good luck" shrug. There was only so much assistance he could give. Oh, Al was gonna kill him.


	2. Chapter 2

Having left Al to fend for himself, Sam went searching for his locker. Al would be fine on his own, after all, and Sam needed to make sure he got Laura to class on time. After dodging his way past a couple of large, giggling seniors tossing a lunch sack between themselves, he finally reached it. Reminding himself what St. John had told them the combination was, he opened it up to find it filled almost completely with books.

It was an impressive collection, mostly history and poetry. And not just text books, but personal books with worn covers, thick, heavy books. He wasn't terribly big on the English Lit side, but he spotted some history books that spoke to him; it was encouraging to see a young woman so interested in learning. Pleased, Sam took out a few books and opened them up. Some of them were even signed for her. This was what she loved, the company she kept. More and more, he was beginning to see similarities between Laura and himself.

Now that he was on his own, he found he was relieved at how little he was noticed. When he was in high school, he relished the silence. He wasn't necessarily a wallflower now, but when he was a teenager he was incredibly shy. Like Laura, he was smart and younger than everybody else, and that made it difficult to connect. He preferred to live inside the world he'd created for himself in his head. Numbers and equations, pulp detectives and ghosts. They all fit together so perfectly, everything worked exactly as it was supposed to. It made sense, unlike reality. Did Laura have her own world, he wondered? Who slayed dragons with her and carried her into sleep?

A giant shoulder slammed into Sam as one of the chunkheads playing catch with the bagged lunch accidentally backed up too far. Books went flying, Sam's nose whacked into the locker, and he heard a _splat!_ as the lunch landed and a thermos cracked open.

"Whoops!"

Ow. Sam's stilettos felt sticky; there could only be badness down below. Peeling himself away from the locker, straightening his glasses, and rubbing his sore nose, he glanced down to find the books he was holding covered in split pea soup.

The boy—wow, it felt strange to call someone of his stature a boy, but that's what he was—looked extremely embarrassed. Underneath his mop of curly blonde hair his cheeks flushed bright red. "Oh jeez! Sorry! I didn't see you there!" He dropped to his knees just as Sam knelt down as well, resulting in a head-on collision. "Oh jeez! Oh man!" As Sam was massaging his skull, he picked up the books and held them out to him. "Uh, here."

Sam looked out from under his hand at the soup-covered books. Grabbing them hesitantly, he sarcastically responded, "Gee, thanks."

"Sorry about that," the boy apologized again as they got to their feet, trying to look cordial, "We were just goofin' around and got carried away." Reading the author name, he waved at the cover of the book on the top of the pile. "Sorry, Mr. Keys!"

"Keats," Sam corrected as he inspected his gunky hands.

"Oh. Never heard of him. Is he any good?"

Sam glanced up. The kid was waiting earnestly for his answer. "He's one of the most influential poets of all time."

"Oh yeah?" the boy picked up the book and studied it curiously, "This his new one?"

"…he died almost two centuries ago."

"Ohhhh…guess it's not his new one then," the kid answered with a doofy chuckle. He handed the book back to Sam, who simply stared. "Oh hey, you got some, uh—here, lemme just—" Spotting some of the book mess smeared onto the front of Sam's dress, he clumsily tried to wipe it away. Upon realizing just where he was touching Laura, a panicked Sam slapped his hands away. Was he trying to cop a feel or just an idiot? Or both?

Before he could determine the answer, the bell rang.

Al was finding it mighty difficult to pay attention in class. As interesting as Miss Snoozeville was up front, he'd sat through enough boring meetings and tedious speeches to handle it—if not for the fact he was seated next to Mouthy Martha and Chatty Cathy. They were testing his patience far more than any senator he might've had to play hardball with. Jenny and Ashley kept providing the lesson with their less-than-witty commentary, whispering and giggling and generally being unwanted distractions. Kids. Was he the only one here to learn?

Jenny slipped a note onto his desk. Ugh, again? Unfolding it curiously, it read: _Do you think Peter is cute?_ He looked up and slanted his mouth. Peter, sitting two seats ahead of him, was licking his lips and checking him out. Ugh! Al quickly crumpled up the paper and averted his eyes.

The Terrible Twos were tittering again. "Check out Elvira Mistress of the Dark over there," Ashley whispered. Al glanced back. The description was pretty apt. A pale girl with dark hair, makeup, and clothing was seated in the back and hunched over, scratching her pencil into her desk. Probably casting some spell. Al shuddered. She gave him the heebie jeebies.

"Psst!" Jenny hissed, "Scabby Tabby!" The girl looked up in time to see a pencil fly in her direction. As the girls laughed, she ducked her head down again.

Al frowned. This was just cruel. "Hey, knock it off," he told them. The teacher made a remark and the girls straightened up, suddenly perfect angels. Yuck.

He looked back again. The girl kept her eyes on the desk. Poor kid.

Jeez louise, didn't these creeps have anyone else to ogle? It seemed to Al he couldn't go anywhere without a guy leering at him. Look at that one over there! It was like he was undressing Al with his eyes. He quickly hurried his pace past him toward the bathroom. Yikes.

And oh good, Jenny followed him inside. Could he go nowhere alone? He might not've done much learning today, but he'd quickly figured out that this girl loved to yak. He shifted uncomfortably as she prattled on. "So anyway, I saw the same dress at Maurice's, and I'm like, what the heck? It's only 50 dollars! And it fits like a glove. But _then_ I'm thinking, if I get this, I can't buy those skinny jeans I was looking—"

"Do you mind?!" Al finally burst out impatiently, causing her to jump, "I gotta take a leak!"

Jenny wasn't sure how to respond at first. Finally, she threw her hands up. "God, Kim, have a cow…It must be that time of the month." She shook her head and finally left.

"Lord almighty!"

Ahhh, sweet release. Not only had he been waiting to drain the snake all afternoon, but he was also glad to have some peace and quiet. No boys, makeup, or clothes. Just him and the little admiral. He'd always liked the ladies room.

Hopefully his two shadows were gone. He leaned out the bathroom door, making a tactical sweep of the eye across the hall. A sigh of relief. He was safe for now.

When he exited the bathroom, however, he found a new set of eyes on him. Just for a split second, Tabby was watching him from across the hall. When they made eye contact she turned away again.

A hand squeezed his shoulder from behind and a lecherous voice spoke up. "Hey Kim."

Gah! Al slid out from under the grip and turned to face a jock who probably considered himself pretty handsome. "Hey, watch your hands!"

The jock lifted his palms and laughed. "Just wanted to get your attention, babe. I was curious if you wanted to get together tonight, see a movie or somethin'." His eyes slid down Al's body.

Puh, he thought he was hot stuff. Al lowered his eyelids. "Sorry, pal. Not interested. And I'm not your babe." After that quick dismissal he started to leave, but the hand was back on his shoulder to more forcefully turn him around.

"Hey now, don't play coy with me." The jock leaned in with a knowing smirk. "C'mon, I heard you, y'know…got together with a lot of guys."

It took everything in Al not to knock this guy's teeth out. Who did this putz think he was? Who did he think Al—Kim, was? Did he think he could just push women around like that? Yanking his shoulder back and gritting his teeth, he said shortly, "You heard wrong."

The boy didn't seem to believe him. But when Al stood his ground the grin disappeared, and that was pretty satisfying. Before he could make another pass, Al spotted Sam at his locker.

Pulling his backpack up, Al threw out a firm, "See you never." And he left behind the ticked off jockstrap.

"Men are DIS-gusting!" Al vented, dropping his bag on the floor. He emphasized every point with a gesture. "I'm telling you, Sam, they're _greasy, slimy_ DIRTBALLS, all of 'em! You'd think I was just a sexy mannequin the way these guys are treating me! Don't they have anything better to do than hit on me or call me 'beautiful' or stare me down with their _beady little eyes_?"

Sam was simply leaning against his locker, arms folded and an "I told you so" smirk in place. Did he need to say anything at this point?

Al narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "Ohhhh no you don't, Sam. Don't you gimme that look." Sam raised his shoulders innocently. "Don't you say it!" Sam lifted his hands, pretending to be confused. Oh, he was playing dirty. Two could play at that game. Suddenly shifting his stance, Al deflated and looked to Sam for pity. " _Saaaam,_ " he said pathetically, "Don't you remember what happened last leap? I almost DIED, Sam."

Snorting, Sam shook his head and turned to open his locker. He supposed Al had learned his lesson. "I didn't say anything."

Blowing out a breath, Al picked up his bag again and slung it over his shoulder. "I dunno if I can do this much longer. I mean, I was a teenager once—a few centuries ago—but this is completely different. How am I supposed to keep up with this schedule with the Gossip Twins hounding me everywhere?" He took out the sheet he'd written Kim's classes on and rubbed his face before smacking it with the back of his hand. "And this workload is ridiculous! I dunno how I'm gonna get all these assignments done."

"You'll get used to it," Sam assured him, lifting his palm. Supreme overscheduling was par for the course at this point. "Just breathe and take it one step at a time. You've got this. You've already done high school, so this should be a breeze."

"That's what I figured, but this damn swiss cheesed brain is making things more difficult than they need to be! I don't remember the stuff I already know!" Al's arms flopped to his sides in frustration before he took off his bag and started rooting through it. Then, he said offhandedly, "I mean, I didn't even know we had a war in Vietnam!"

Sam's head snapped toward Al immediately, only to find him cracking open a textbook. Had he heard correctly? His friend scratched his temple as he read the mystifying words. "You…you don't remember Vietnam?"

"No! Can you believe it? An entire war, just gone from my head. Zip!" Al slid his hand quickly over his head, huffed, lifted up the textbook, and squinted at the pictures.

Sam simply stood there in shock as the realization hit him that Al had no recollection of the worst part of his life. Not the war, not his service, not his time as a POW. They'd had a long, extended conversation when Al had first leapt covering what Al had forgotten from his life, but that part…that part hadn't come up. It wasn't the right time. But Sam had just assumed that…that eventually it had come back to him.

But that wasn't part of Al's life now. That stain had been wiped away. Erased.

Did…did it ever need to be restored, Sam wondered?

Further pondering would have to wait, because the sound of the Imaging Chamber interrupted their conversation. St. John cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Hello again, chaps," he greeted politely. The tension from their previous conversation seemed forgotten. "I trust things are going well here?"

"More or less," Al replied, adding under his breath, "…mostly less."

"Hm?"

Al rolled his eyes and Sam shot him a look. Now that some time had passed, Sam felt a bit guilty for treating St. John the way he had before. After all, he wasn't the one responsible for what had happened last leap, that was the Committee. He'd done nothing on this leap but do his job and they were making it more difficult for him. Sam had decided on giving the new Observer less of a hard time. He deserved a chance before they immediately dismissed him.

"Things are going fine," Sam answered, "Do you have anything for us?"

"Ah yes, um," St. John held up the handlink and shook it, "We finally managed to get some information out of this _infernal_ machine of yours…" The rainbow block shrieked at him and Sam winced. Ziggy was definitely going to take that personally. "Honestly, Samuel, I don't know how you could possibly work with this megalomaniacal beast."

"Well, I _did_ program her with Barbra Streisand's ego…" Sam explained apologetically. Why had he done that again?

"She's spent all morning complaining about me!" St. John exclaimed, put out, "Additionally, she continually corrected me on how to perform my duties as Observer. ' _Admiral Calavicci would do it this way, no, Admiral Calavicci wouldn't do that.'_ It's enough to drive me mad!"

Al straightened up with surprise, grinning to himself. "Atta girl, Ziggy…" He didn't know she'd grown so fond of him. He didn't know he'd grown so fond of _her._

" _Ziggy_ ," St. John offensively rolled off his tongue, "What a preposterous name for a computer. It wouldn't be my first or last choice."

"It's better than Slim Jim…" Al muttered.

With a loud sigh, St. John released whatever else was pent up and adjusted his tie. "But onward and upward, I always say. We have a job to do. I have your leap objectives here." He plunked a few keys into the handlink, which continued to make protesting sounds. Ziggy was not enjoying her new coworker. "Ziggy has projected that you each have your own task to complete before this leap is over." He turned to Sam. "Samuel, Ziggy gives it a 76.2% chance you're here to assist a Walter Quinn in passing his history exam. If he receives a failing grade, he won't graduate. And Albert…" He pressed a few more keys. "Ziggy places it at 84.6% that your job is to help a girl named Tabitha Pines with her low self-confidence."

"Tabitha—Scabby Tabby?" Al waited for more, but St. John had finished his instructions. "Or what? Does something happen to her?"

"I'm afraid there's no data on that, but Ziggy is quite sure that is the correct path to take."

A beat. "So that's it?"

"You wanted more?"

Sam and Al seemed perplexed at these very simple tasks. Sam couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a leap objective that didn't involve death or injury, and two in one leap? That was unheard of. They glanced at each other and shrugged.

"Huh. Guess we have an easy leap this time, huh, Sam?"

"Yeah." It was a nice break, especially after last time. Sam could get used to this.

St. John brushed off the front of his jacket and opened up the Imaging Chamber. "Well if you no longer need me, I'll be off. Albert, Samuel."

"Hey, one more thing," Sam said, and St. John stopped curiously, "Don't call me Samuel. The last person to do that was my Great Aunt Tilly." He frowned. That gave him an eerie sense of déjà vu. Had this exchange happened before?

"Whatever you say, Samuel," St. John sighed with tired befuddlement, shaking his head and closing the door.

Well, Al might've had a brain full of holes and a bra he couldn't keep adjusted, but if there's one thing leaping hadn't taken from him it was his confidence. And boy did he have some to spare, so if all he had to do this leap was give some of it to Tabitha, this was gonna be a cakewalk. While he'd temporarily dodged Kim's friends, this gave him an opportunity to reach out to the shy girl.

He spotted her at her locker halfway ducked inside. Straightening his posture, he strode purposefully toward her and cleared his throat. "Hey, Tabby-uh, Tabitha."

Not expecting anyone to address her, she jumped and whipped around. When she spotted Al, her eyes grew huge. "Oh! Kim. Uh…" Her eyes shifted around in search of clues. "Am I in your way?"

"No," Al replied, confused, "I was just saying hi." No kiddin' she had low confidence. If she sunk any lower she'd be halfway through the floor.

Now Tabitha was even more perplexed. "Oh…why?"

"Because I, uh, I noticed you over here and thought you'd like some company."

"…you never talk to me. You're the most popular girl in school."

Al smirked and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Well don't you think we should know each other a little better then?"

The girl seemed hesitant. She hugged herself and kept her eyes averted. "I-I dunno, um…"

"How about we hang out after school?" Al suggested, ducking to meet her eyes, "We could go get some coffee or somethin'." Did high schoolers drink coffee? Hm.

Tabitha gasped, but she kept herself guarded. She wasn't sure if she was being tricked. "…really?"

"Oh yeah!" Al said warmly as he placed a hand on her shoulder, "It'll be great! Just you and me. I'll meet you out front at 3?"

A hesitant pause. "O-Okay…"

"Fabulous!" Al clapped her shoulder and grinned. "I'll see you then!" He jokingly pointed "Don't stand me up."

Tabitha only managed a timid shake of her head. But when Al left, a small smile crept onto her lips.

See? A cakewalk. This leap was gonna be a breeze. He wondered how things were going on Sam's front.

Sam was distracted, that's how things were going. He knew he should be focused on the leap, but his mind kept wandering over to Al and his swiss cheesing. Just before they'd come here, they'd had the worst fight he could remember having since the leaps started, and it was all because Sam had kept Al out of the loop. Granted, Al was notorious for hiding things from Sam, but Sam had made a promise that they were a team now. He wouldn't cut him out because he thought he knew better.

So…did this count? After all, Al's past in Vietnam didn't relate to anything they were doing here. He was blissfully unaware of all the horrors he'd experienced. Did Sam have the right to take that away from him? Did he have the right to hide it?

The leap, right. Pay attention to the leap.

It would've been helpful if St. John had perhaps had a picture on hand to show Sam who Walter Quinn was. He'd have to ask him to point him out whenever he showed up next. Unless the kid just fell into his lap, but leaps rarely worked that way.

A big, meaty hand slapped clumsily onto his back, nearly knocking him over. "Heya!" _Oh no._ Not this guy again. The giant from earlier was back, towering over Sam and ready to leave more destruction in his wake. "I wanted to say sorry again for your books. You're so tiny, I didn't see you, heh! Laura, right?"

Sam gave a reluctant grin and a confirming nod. Whatever this guy was after, he wasn't offering. Sam had been down this road before and his flirting wasn't exactly subtle. He didn't have time for this.

One of those giant hands extended forward. "I'm Walt. I have history class with you."

A terrible feeling sunk deep into the pit of Sam's stomach. Oh _no._ "Walt…Walter Quinn?"

"Yeah!" Walt exclaimed with his goofy laugh, "You remember me!" Sam's shoulders sagged. No, not him. Anyone but him. "So listen, um…" Walt rubbed the back of his neck and the words Sam dreaded came out. "You're smart and everything. I'm having a little trouble with my history and…I was wondering…if maybe you could help me out?"

Sam threw his head back and closed his eyes. GTFW still had a sense of humor.

"Laura?"

"Yeah," Sam breathed, reluctantly opening his eyes, "Yeah, I can help you."

"Awesome! Can I study at your place tonight?"

Walt might have ulterior motives, but Sam was going to teach him something whether he liked it or not. Meeting alone in Laura's bedroom was off the table. "How about we meet at the library?" Sam suggested. That would be quiet and very public.

Walt nodded. "Okay. Sounds good."

Huh. That was easy.

"How're things goin', Sam?" Al slinked over as Sam was heading toward the buses. "You find Walter yet?"

"Actually, he found me," Sam grumbled. Al narrowed one eye curiously, but Sam didn't elaborate. "What about you and Tabitha?"

"I've got a date lined up, yeah." Al pursed his lips sympathetically. "Oh you should see her, Sam, she's so sad. But I think all she really wants is someone to notice her."

"Well apparently whoever's leaping us in time did."

That was a pleasant thought. Al hadn't thought of it that way. "Yeah. You've got a good point there."

Sam stared at the sky pensively, his mind on other things. Al was curious what he was thinking about. Probably too much. Sam was a multitasker; the brainiac could never focus his mind on just one thing.

"Kim!"

"Oh jeez, here we go…"

Ashley and Jenny raced up beside them, once again ignoring Sam. "There you are!" Ashley exclaimed, "Where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Al was looking for a quick escape. "I was just, uh, going home, so…"

"What're you talking about? Aren't you coming to practice?"

"Practice?"

Never in all his life did Al think something could make him dislike cheerleading uniforms, and yet here he was, stuffed into a sweater, skirt, and a pair of pompoms and loathing every minute of it. He regretted every time he'd asked Tina to role play with him. Had he known how _degrading_ and _exploitative_ it was, he would've started burning bras decades ago! This was embarrassing. A travesty.

The other girls cheered as he trepidatiously stepped out from under the bleachers and into the harsh sun. Yeesh, tone it down, would ya?

"Look who decided to show up?" one of the girls joked. Ha ha.

"Heh." Al tried to stick to the water cooler and hide as much of himself as possible.

A pause. No one did anything.

"What's the hold up?" Al asked.

"We're ready any time you are."

Oh god. He was the one who was supposed to lead!

He looked pleadingly heavenward. _Please, Whoever's zigzagging us through time, if you really care about me you'll leap me out into a mob shootout or something. Anything but this!_

Hell, he didn't know how to cheer. He wasn't exactly in the best shape of his life anyway, but he maybe could've bullshitted his way through…anything else. He didn't _know_ any cheers. He'd have to think of something quick though, because right now all eyes were on him.

Slowly, slooooowly, he inched his way out from behind the water cooler. _Ffft, ffft, ffffffft,_ his feet dragged along the grass. A strong breeze blew his skirt upward, and he jumped while trying to keep it under control. This was a nightmare!

Several pairs of eyes blinked and waited.

Al coughed into his pompom. C'mon, brain, think of something! The pressure was on. Lordy, if his buddies in the Navy could see him now, it'd be the end of his career. He could hear Chip's insults just imagining it. Whatever happened to Chip anyway?

Wait a minute. _There_ was an idea.

Bringing forth the admiral he was, he straightened his posture, squared his shoulders, and stared down the lower ranking officers, pompoms crossed behind his back. He cleared his throat.

"ATTENTION!"

The girls jumped and, somewhat confused, straightened up.

Face stern and all business, Al brought forth his pompoms and rustled them. "Ooooooohhhh… Hey, hey, Captain Jack…"

A pause. He waited for the girls, who hesitantly followed his lead. "Hey, hey, Captain Jack…"

"Meet me down by the railroad track!"

"Meet me down by the railroad track…"

"With a bottle in your hand…"

"With a bottle in your hand…"

"I'm gonna be a drinking man!"

"I'm gonna be a drinking man!"

Hey, he was really getting the hang of this!

While Al was teaching a gaggle of cheerleaders their best Navy cadences, Sam was pacing Laura's room and considering his dilemma. He stopped and sighed at the full length mirror on the wall, where Laura frowned back at him. Should he tell Al about his past? What he needed right now was someone to confide in who _wasn't_ Al. Someone from the future who might have a different perspective.

Someone in a dated suit with an English accent perhaps.

The room temporarily brightened with the light of the Imaging Chamber. Before it could close, Sam spun around to address St. John. "Oh good, you're here."

"Good evening, Samuel," the hologram replied, his head still bent over the handlink, "At least, I'm told it's evening there. I wanted to check in on your progress." He looked up and was taken aback at how quickly Sam had closed in.

"It's going fine, I think. Listen, um…St. John, I need your advice."

St. John blinked. "Mine?"

"Yeah, yours." Sam rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He wasn't sure about getting this personal with St. John, but his options were severely limited. "I'm a little lost here."

"Well I'll certainly do my best to assist," St. John said, nodding and clasping his hands in front of him, "What can I do for you?"

Sam sighed and stared at the floor, considering things carefully. At last, he lifted his head and told him plainly, "Al doesn't remember Vietnam."

St. John waited. Sam waited. "…and?"

"And he was a POW."

"I'm aware of his record, yes." The hologram blankly stared.

Sam frowned at St. John's struggle to see the concern. He half shrugged. "So...I'm wondering if I should tell him."

Now St. John woke up, his eyes rolling skyward. "Oh, _Samuel,_ we went _over_ this…"

"No, hey, forget the rules for a moment, St. John—Edward." Sam gazed at him earnestly. "I'm not asking you as an advisor on the Project, I'm asking you as a man. If you were in my shoes, would you tell him?"

"I hardly see how this is pertinent to the leap."

"It's pertinent to Al," Sam argued, slightly annoyed, but St. John continued to watch him dryly. He began to pace again. "It's—it's a seminal moment of his life, and that's just gone now. Awful or not, it's part of who he is. And…I promised him last leap I wouldn't cut him out anymore. I can't just go back on my promise."

St. John flickered his eyelids in frustration. "Seeing as how your mind is already made up, I would say tell him."

Sam frowned. "But I don't want to tell him."

"Then _don't_ tell him."

"But that makes me a hypocrite, doesn't it?" Sam questioned uneasily, pivoting and coming to a halt, "I mean, I…I used to get so angry with him. When it was just me leaping, he'd keep things from me all the time. Sometimes I hated him for it." He marched toward the window, fists clenched, and looked out at the moon. "I never understood why he felt the need to lie to me about these things…until now." His fists unclenched and his brows furrowed sadly. He faced St. John again. "He's happy now, St. John. I don't want to make him go through that again."

"Samuel." St. John stepped closer, serious. "I feel it would be best if you turned your attention away from Albert and instead concentrated your efforts on Mr. Quinn. Albert's feelings are not part of the mission."

It was at that moment that it became clear to Sam just what kind of man Edward St. John the Fifth was. Maybe he had a sincere belief in the work. But he knew nothing of why it was so important.

Sam decided it would be better to end the discussion, nodding in agreement. While St. John had not offered any helpful words, Sam had at least gained some clarity.

What a relief it would be, to have the worst parts of your life scrubbed away from your mind. But that didn't mean they hadn't happened. If the situation were reversed, and in some fashion it _had_ been many times…Sam would want to know. Al would want to know. When the opportunity presented itself, he would tell him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Gee, Kim, today's practice was…different." One of the girls laughed as she passed him by in the locker room. The other girls were giggling; it may have been strange, but they all seemed to enjoy it. Heck, Al was surprised to find that he'd enjoyed it too.

"Thanks," Al muffled through fabric. He was stuck with his sweater halfway off. Jeez, was his head always this fat? Finally he popped free, and he stuffed the sweater into his locker.

"We're going to the mall for a bit, you coming?" Jenny and Ashley were back again. "We still have a couple of hours before they close."

As tempting as a cheese grater massage. Al gave a tight grin as he slipped Kim's skirt out from under her dress. "I think I'm gonna head home, actually, so—" Abruptly, he went ramrod straight and searched for the clock. "Hang on, what time is it?"

"It's 5."

"Oh damn it!" Al sighed, smacking his head, "Tabitha!" How could he have forgotten? He snatched up Kim's bag and shoes and scrambled barefoot out of the locker room.

Jenny and Ashley made a face at each other. "Scabby Tabby?"

"Well it's official!" Al yelled as he barged his way into Sam's room, tossing Kim's bag aside. "We're a day in and I've already failed the leap!"

"What happened?"

"I completely boned it, Sam." Al rubbed his forehead with frustration. "I totally forgot when I was supposed to meet up with Tabitha! She wasn't there when I checked. She probably thinks I was playing some kinda joke on her; she's never gonna wanna talk to me again."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Al," Sam reassured him, "People forget things all the time." Boy, was that an understatement for them. "I'm sure once you explain things to her, she'll want to meet up again."

"I sure hope so, but, Sam…if the most popular girl in school flaked out on her, I might've made things worse."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." Sam was on a time crunch of his own. He wanted to get into what he really wanted to discuss with Al, but that wasn't the kind of conversation that should be rushed. Reluctantly, he put it aside for now as he grabbed a stack of books off the bed. "Look, I gotta go to the library to study with Walt, but if you're worried about Tabitha, you can always find her now and try to make it up to her."

"Well how do I do that?" Al asked, throwing his arms out. He sighed and covered his eyes. "I don't know what my plan really was anyway. I don't know what girls like."

"Al," Sam said from the doorway, leaning his head forward, "Trust me. You know women."

It hit Al like a ton of bricks. Say, the kid had a point there.

One perusal of the phone book later, and Al found himself on Tabitha's doorstep. He was pretty sure anyway; there was only one Tabitha Pines in there. Her mother had seemed simultaneously stunned and happy to see someone asking for her daughter, but Tabitha, well, she wasn't nearly as eager to see him.

"You had your fun," Tabitha glowered through the screen door, "Just leave me alone."

Al reacted quickly as she started to shut the door. "No wait, Tabitha, please hear me out! I'm sorry I didn't meet you earlier; I forgot I had cheerleading practice."

"I'm sure the other girls found it hilarious."

"No, it wasn't like that," Al said remorsefully, "I promise I wasn't trying to hurt you. Honest."

Tabitha hesitated. She looked up from under heavy brows. "You don't have to talk to me because you feel sorry for me. It's okay if you hate me, you know. Everyone does."

Al's shoulders sunk. She didn't deserve to think that about herself. "I don't hate you." Her eyes flickered up and he stepped forward confidently. "And I don't feel sorry for you either. Only thing I'm sorry about is making you think you aren't worth being friends with."

A pause. Tabitha's lip turned up cautiously.

Al raised an eyebrow and leaned toward her knowingly. "What you need, Tabitha, is some chutzpah."

The girl screwed up her face. "Some _what_?"

"Y'know," Al balled up his hands and shimmied, "some courage, some _moxie_. You need to have more faith in yourself!" Tabitha softly laughed and ducked her head again. Al leaned down and met her eyes with a smirk. "You can do anything you set your mind to."

"I don't think so…"

"Sure you can!" Al exclaimed assuredly, "You can even be popular like me!"

"…I can?"

"Absolutely, positively!" Al threw out his hands with a wide grin, a true showman. "Just stick with me, kid, and I'll show you how."

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and swallowed. "Even...even popular enough to get Bobby West to notice me?"

 _There_ was a lucky development. If there was one thing Al was more knowledgeable about than women, it was what men wanted in a woman. And getting Tabitha there was a _very_ accomplishable goal.

His smile widened. "Yeah, Tabitha. Even popular enough for Bobby West."

Eyes looking out tiredly from his fingers, sunk onto the library table, Sam thought of how spectacularly poorly this evening of tutoring was going. He'd _tried_. Really tried. He was a genius, it shouldn't be that hard to impart some knowledge to even the dimmest of students. But after hours of studying, this was about where they were:

"I wonder how Medieval Times had restaurants before Pepsi was invented? Wasn't that like a hundred years ago?"

 _Nobody_ could be this stupid.

"They didn't have. Medieval Times. In medieval times. It's just a—" An irritated Sam stopped himself, sat up, and jabbed his finger onto the page. "Would you please pay attention to what we're reading?"

Walt sighed and snapped the book closed, leaning back in his chair. "Ugh, this is so _boring_ though..." His eyes wandered out the window. "I wanna spend more time with you…y'know, not studying."

Sam tensed up. This leap was frustrating enough without adding romantic entanglements to the list, and getting Laura and Walt together was not part of the objective. Plus, he had a feeling that some part of his uneasiness at the attention came from Laura herself. He didn't think she was interested. What was the easiest way to let him down without scaring him off before he'd helped him?

"Walt, I—"

"We should take a break," Walt said chipperly, "C'mon, let's go to the movies. They got that new Star Wars movie out."

"I really don't think—" Hold the phone. Sam's eyes were wide as he processed what he just heard. No way. GTFW had better not be playing a prank on him. With the shocked excitement of a younger Sam that dreamt of a galaxy far, far away, he asked, "They made a new Star Wars movie?"

Perhaps he was being a little hasty in turning him down.

Leaping wasn't that different from Observing, Al was coming to find out. He still had someone to help and knowledge from the future on his side, only this was a little more hands on. It felt like old times when he was helping Sam, except in this case Sam was a teenage girl and the assistance involved makeup and dresses. Actually—yeah, it was exactly like helping out Sam.

After raiding Kim's closet for the most desirable outfits he could find, Al took a box of them along with her makeup kit to school for Tabitha to try out. Tabitha had seemed reluctant about the colorful, revealing clothes, but after trying them on, she was already beginning to look like a knockout. Wowza! Turning her cool was gonna be the easiest leap he ever had! Which admittedly wasn't a big pool at the moment, but he wouldn't say no to continuing this trend.

Tabitha studied herself in the bathroom mirror. The bright pink lipstick and eye shadow really changed her face from her older, darker makeup. She was more open, more…y'know, normal. Al was proud of his work. Not bad for a relative newcomer on the makeup scene.

"Are you sure about this?" Tabitha asked nervously, "I mean…I feel silly."

"You kiddin'? You look great!" Al put his hands on her shoulders. "It's all about how you wear it." To demonstrate, he straightened up and began to strut in front of the sinks. "Walk like you own the room. That, and pretend to laugh at people's jokes no matter how crummy they are; people love it when you pay attention to 'em. Be positive; act happy. Smile." He gave a huge grin and pointed to the corners of his mouth.

Tabitha shakily showed her teeth, unused to it. "Like this?"

"Atta girl!" he enthused with a clenched fist.

At Al's gruff encouragement, Tabitha laughed and folded her arms over her stomach. "Y'know, Kim, for a popular girl…you're so _weird_!"

Damn, he was good. Not to toot his own horn or anything, but Al was nailing this leap. When Tabitha first stepped out she was very self-conscious, but now she was walking a little taller and seeming much happier. She was the perfect student. Of course, it helped that Al was by her side, but she was much more open with other people. She laughed at their jokes, smiled all the time. A shining beacon of sunshine and all that gooey stuff people looked for. But most importantly, they _noticed_ her.

Even more than that, Bobby noticed her.

Bobby was a jock, rather skinny compared to some of them but reasonably good-looking. He smiled at Tabitha from across the hall, causing her to blush and giggle.

"He saw me, Kim!" she gasped, turning red, "He _saw_ me!"

"Then, uh, why don't you go talk to him?" Al suggested.

"Oh no, not yet…" Tabitha said timidly, shaking her head. "I-I don't think I'm ready."

Al was about to offer another helpful bit of wisdom to get these kids together, but it was kind of hard to concentrate with a giant cloud of despair wafting through the hallway all of a sudden. Sam was dragging himself along with a look of utter grief only comparable to the death of a loved one. He looked like _hell._

Oh no. Al had been kind of busy since last night, but it was obvious he'd missed something devastating. "Uh, Tabitha, I'll be right back," he said before jogging over to his friend.

Sam didn't even look up. " _Sam_ ," Al said with worry, "what happened? Are you okay?"

"I just had the worst night of my life," his forlorn friend sighed through his teeth.

"What is it?" Now Al was even more concerned. He tilted his head and took on a stern, fatherly tone. "Something happen with Walt?" That punk better not have tried anything.

"Walt and I went to the movies."

"And?"

Sam looked up darkly. "We saw The Phantom Menace."

Al's mouth fell slack in shock. "Oh, _Sam…_ " he breathed with pity. He knew how much Star Wars meant to him. "I'm sorry, kid. If I'd known…"

His friend's mouth was a hard line. "Why didn't you tell me, Al?"

Now racked with guilt, Al rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged sheepishly. "I didn't know how to tell ya," he said with sincerity.

Sam quickly stopped and fell back onto the lockers, wiping his hands down his face. "I can't work like this, Al! We barely got any studying done yesterday and Walt isn't any closer to passing his history test." He flopped his arms in exasperation. "He's—he's too dumb. I can't teach him anything."

"I'm sure it's not _that_ bad," Al said, "We wouldn't have leaped in here if you couldn't help him. Some people just take more patience; not everyone can be a brainiac like you."

"That's assuming he _has_ a brain…"

Yeesh, harsh. At least things were going well on his end, Al thought.

"Kim, what's with you lately?" He craned his neck to see Jenny and Ashley behind them, looking down their noses snottily. Uh oh, he didn't like where this was going.

"What?" Al shrugged. "What'd I do?"

"You've been acting so _freaky_ since yesterday," Ashley said haughtily, "First you're spending so much time with Dr. Geek," she motioned toward Sam, "and then you ditch us to be with _Scabby Tabby_?"

"Her name is Tabitha," Sam said defensively, only to be ignored by the girls.

"Why are you hanging out in Loser Town so much lately?"

Holy moly, if this was childish behavior for high schoolers, imagine how an admiral in his 60s was feeling right about now. Did any of this really _matter_?

"For your information, _Ashley_ ," Al said, hands on his hips, "I can spend time with whoever I want. I don't remember putting you in charge of my life."

Jenny scoffed. "Forget it, Ash. She's obviously too busy for us anymore. After all, she spent all night with Chad."

Al frowned. "Chad? Who the hell is Chad?"

The girls giggled evilly. "Yeah right," Jenny sneered, "As if you don't know the captain of the football team anymore."

"I heard she knows the whole team…" Ashley whispered.

"There's no use hiding it," Jenny said with mock sympathy, "Chad told the whole school what happened. He said you were _terrible_ in bed."

Al's fists were clenched at his sides. No way was this bozo pulling what he thought he was pulling! "I didn't sleep with anyone!" Boy, talk about words he never thought would come outta his mouth…

"Not according to Chad…" Ashley said in a singsong voice, eyes skyward. Her gaze slid down the hall to a familiar letterman's jacket.

It was that slimeball he'd turned down yesterday, wearing a shit-eating grin and bragging with his buddies.

Al's blood began to boil at the sight of his smug, entitled face. He'd like to knock out some of those perfect teeth, see how he liked picking on girls then. Well, he wasn't gonna just sit here and let him ruin Kim's reputation!

He rolled up his sleeves and started forward, stopping when Sam grabbed his shoulder. "Al…" he whispered warningly.

"You gonna let him get away with this, Sam?" Al asked him quietly.

Sam thought on it for a moment, taking in Chad's carefree attitude and noting his glance in their direction followed by a secretive whisper and high five. Taking all of that into consideration…he actually wanted to see just where this went.

He nodded and the two of them barged forward. The crowd parted for the two girls as they stormed toward the jocks, murmuring excitedly among themselves and casting judgmental looks toward Al. Chad waited for them patiently, unworried and arrogant.

Al made himself look as tall as possible. "You take back what you said."

"It's the truth, babe," Chad said with a dismissive shrug, "You were a bad lay. I'm sorry I even bothered."

"That's a lie," Sam said, "Kim was at home last night."

"Wish _I_ had a sister to cover for me. But everyone knows what really happened." Chad looked to his friends for support. The crowd laughed.

"That's it," Al stepped boldly forward to fight, "You're gonna be eating those words, pal!"

Chad raised his hands and the crowd 'oooh'd.' "Hey, I ain't fighting no girl! Jeez, what a freak show." He snorted. "I should've known better than to let you drag me into the backseat of the car. You're so vain. It's obvious you're hanging out with Scabby Tabby to make yourself look better. I mean, it's hard not to look pretty when you're standing next to that." He gestured toward Tabitha, who had joined the crowd with curiosity.

The students began to laugh, the sound closing in on her. Everything they'd worked for fell apart, and Tabitha crumbled into the same timid girl as before.

Bursting into tears, she ran away and retreated into the bathroom.

"Tabitha!" Al yelled. Sam glared at Chad and chased after her.

Al kept his eyes narrowed on Chad. Ooh, he'd like to kick him square between his goal posts right now. But Tabitha needed him more. "You could only be so lucky as to be half the person she is, ya nozzle." With a rude gesture, he followed her and Sam into the bathroom.

Tabitha was sobbing uncontrollably, her new makeup streaking down her face. Sam rubbed her back consolingly as she leaned against the sink. When Al entered and saw her, it was like a stab in the gut. She was just a kid. For crying out loud, all she wanted was to be liked! Why did everyone have to be so vicious?

"It'll be okay," Sam said, but she continued to loudly cry. He looked toward Al half apologetically. "I haven't been able to get a word out of her."

"Aw Tabitha, don't listen to them!" Al told her fiercely, "That knucklenose doesn't know what he's talking about."

Somehow, they were able to make out Tabitha's sniffled reply. "Wh-Why…a-are men…like this?"

Jeez, break his heart even more, why didn't she? Al's fury softened into a paternal sadness. "Aw, sweetheart…c'mon, don't cry." He just wanted to wrap his warms around her and protect her. She looked so small. Grabbing a paper towel, he turned her gently toward him and began to clean her face. "He's not worth shedding any tears over. Now listen." He took her by the shoulders, making sure she was paying attention. "Some men are disgusting _pigs_. They're bitter the world doesn't revolve around them and their conquests, so they make stuff up so they can feel better about themselves. They don't think about the fact these girls are someone's sister," he looked toward Sam, "or daughter, or…or good friend." He smiled warmly. "Like you're my friend."

"Mine too," Sam added. Al grinned appreciatively.

"And we wouldn't say that if we didn't know what a terrific person you are."

Tabitha sniffed and a smile slipped through. This might just be working,

"So just ignore them," Sam said softly, "The best thing you can do to prove them wrong is to not let them tell you how to feel."

"Those guys out there?" Al jabbed his thumb toward the door. "They don't see what we see. But we're gonna make damn sure they do."

They knew just how special she was. Everyone else was gonna be lucky enough to find out.

Tabitha met their eyes, her smile growing. "Th-thank you…you two a-are—are the best girlfriends I could ever ask for."

Sam and Al exchanged a look. There could be worse things to be.

It took some time, but eventually they were able to calm Tabitha down enough to get her to leave. As she left for her next class, Sam and Al stayed behind.

As soon as the door shut, Al's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. "That was a rotten thing Chad did to Kim."

"You won't get any argument from me."

"Who does that?" Al said, spinning around furiously. Now that Tabitha was gone, he could vent some of his anger. And he had plenty to spare. "Who goes around humiliating young girls for their own amusement? And not just Chad, but the whole school out there! One minute I'm the most popular girl in school, the next I'm America's Least Wanted! I feel like I'm living in Bizarro World!"

Sam was leaning against the sink, arms folded over his stomach, head lowered to the floor in thought. "It happens to girls all the time," he said indignantly, brows furrowed, "They—they spend their whole life being judged by how appealing they are to men, and then if they make love to them they're somehow worth less."

"Well it's a terrible double standard!" Al huffed, leaning against the sink too. "I never got treated like that for having sex and neither should she." Wait a damn minute; he screwed up his face and shook his head. "A-And he shouldn't be making it up in the first place! I'm tellin' you, Sam, next time I see Jocko, I'm not gonna hesitate before I sock him!" He mimed a satisfying punch to Chad's imaginary face.

"Oh no you _aren't_." They both jumped and looked up at the new voice. St. John had joined them in the bathroom with a scowl of disapproval.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Al asked with annoyance.

"It means you're failing this leap, Albert." Sam and Al straightened up as St. John took out the handlink, reading the information as if they'd just been called to the principal's office. "According to Ziggy, your chances of helping Tabitha have gone down by 30% since I saw you last."

"Well that's not _my_ fault," Al argued in his defense, "That was all thanks to Chad!"

"Not so; the blame rests solely on your shoulders for how you reacted."

" _What?_ " both men questioned simultaneously.

"The success of your leap relies on Kimberly's popularity boosting Tabitha's confidence," St. John explained, eyes half closed, as if they were both very slow, "And by lashing out in anger, you've sullied Kimberly's reputation. The only way to salvage this leap is to try and repair the damage. Go out and apologize to Chad."

" _What?_ " Sam repeated, still aghast.

"No way!" Al was moving toward St. John in a fury. This nozzle was getting just a touch too comfortable in Al's old position. They were roughly the same height, so he stood as tall as he could make himself. He placed himself squarely in his holographic face. "Nuh-uh! There's no way in hell I'm apologizing to that chucklebag or those harpies Kim calls friends!"

St. John really laid it on thick with his put-upon expression. "What's more important, Albert? You pride or the mission?"

Al blinked. "You're tryna tell me that if I don't play nice with the Slime Time Players, it's over?"

"That's precisely what I'm telling you."

"There has to be more to this leap than that," Sam argued, approaching them. He threw out his hands. "I refuse to believe that all of this boils down to Kim's popularity. She might not be who we leaped in to help, but it's not fair to ask her to endure that kind of treatment."

St. John held the handlink up demonstratively. "I've ran all of the scenarios, and fixing Kim's reputation is the least risky option."

"What's wrong with risks, _Slim Jim_?" Al questioned mockingly, head cocked, "Afraid it'll mess up your perfectly planned schedule?"

"It's exactly that attitude that nearly got you killed last leap."

Al was still seething, but he suddenly went quiet at the unexpectedly harsh personal attack. As he thought back on his near death experience, black memories resurfaced unbidden. St. John cast a judgmental look toward Sam as well, who ground his teeth silently but still felt a twinge of guilt. And…something else.

Fear twisted in his gut. Like death. Where did he _know_ him from?

"The fact is," St. John said pressingly, "you two don't have _time_ to be heroes. If Tabitha isn't helped by the time Walter takes his test, there's a chance your connected leap-link will strand _both_ of you here regardless of if he passes or not."

The sobering words suddenly brought both men to reality. St. John might actually be right. They'd never run into a scenario where they both had different objectives before. What if one of them failed? They could both be stranded if Al didn't apologize, and pride had been part of the reason their last leap had gone so badly.

"Okay," Al said begrudgingly, eyes averted, "I'll…try and make things right, at least with Kim's friends. _Maybe_ with Chad. Happy?"

St. John answered that with another judgy look before opening up the Imaging Chamber. They weren't winning any favor with the new Observer either.

Al missed being in charge.


	4. Chapter 4

What a load of absolute baloney. This leap seemed to be designed to keep everyone miserable. Al had kept from ralphing long enough to spit out some sort of peacemaking words to Ashley and Jenny, who just seemed glad to have a pair of coattails to hang onto again, and currently he was seated with them in the cafeteria as they blabbed about something trivial. He caught Sam's eye and shared a commiserating look. This was the pits.

Sam was seated at the next table over. They felt it would be best to stay separate most of the time until Kim's social standing had improved. Funny, when Sam thought about it, he didn't get the impression that Laura cared very much about her "geek" status. Unlike Tabitha, she was happy with herself. He thought anyway. He wondered what she was doing in the future.

He wanted to tell Al about Vietnam but the opportune time just wasn't surfacing, and now that they were separated the amount of chances were even slimmer. Additionally…his own mission wasn't going anywhere at all. How was he going to teach Walt what he needed to know and quick?

He was distracted from his thoughts when he spotted Al approaching Chad. Even from here, he could see his body react as if the jock's presence repelled it. It was so unfair that he had to apologize to that jerk! Sam still had reservations about St. John's "safe" strategies, but if that's what they had to do to leap under the time constraint they had, he supposed he could deal with it for now. Al, however...he hoped he could control his temper long enough to salvage the leap.

Al was doing his best not to throw out every insult in the book. God, he was so smug. Deep breath. Calm down. This was for Tabitha.

He cleared his throat. "Hey, Chad."

Chad glanced up at him from his food but still seemed to be looking down at him. With a smirk, he asked, "Hey babe. You back for round two?"

 _Ugh. Babe again. I'll show you babe, you little—_ "Uh, heh, yeah. Heh heh. Heh heh heh." Al wrung his hands together furiously, then hid them behind his back. "Actually, I wanted to…" Deep breath, hiding his disgust, "a—apologize…uh, to you."

"For what?" Chad asked, amused, "For leading me on and acting like a bitch?"

Al balled up his fists and craned his neck. Ooh this scab was asking for it. " _I'm sorry_ if I led you on," he gritted through his teeth, "but I'd like to put that behind us and be friends." This felt so dirty.

"Beg me," Chad said with a shrug.

"What."

"You heard me." He pointed to the ground. "Get on your knees and beg me for forgiveness."

Al had inherited a temper from both sides of his family that guaranteed that once he reached a certain point, the teeth were gonna come out. And he'd reached that point exactly now. Leap objective be damned! This kid was gonna pucker up and kiss his ass goodbye!

"You dirty, rotten, no-good scumbag! _Mangia la minchia!_ "

Chad rocketed up from his seat. "What'd you say to me?"

"You heard me."

This time, Chad was the one to lose his cool. The other students were laughing at his expense and he turned bright red. He stepped threateningly toward Al, but before he could follow through with anything, Sam's foot had slipped in between them and tripped him up. Before he knew it, he'd landed face first in a macaroni salad.

As the jerk pulled himself up and pieces of macaroni slipped off of his furious face, the other students, Sam, and Al couldn't help but snicker.

"What're you laughin' at?" Chad spit out, shoving the bowl into another jock's chest. The jock reacted by picking up his sloppy joe and chucking it at him, but it missed and hit Al in the face.

For a moment, silence. Al wiped his eyes clean.

Then, a huge grin slipped onto his features as he realized he could fulfill one of his lifelong dreams.

"FOOD FIGHT!"

The cafeteria erupted into chaos. Once the first bowl flew from Al's hands, the rest of their lunches followed suit. Sam watched in shock, only to get a sloppy joe smashed into his face by Al. "Hey!" When he cleared his glasses, Al was grinning cheekily. "You're gonna pay for that!"

"Try it, Sa—" But a cupcake was smashed on top of his head. Someone else's salad spattered on top of them both.

Across the room, Jenny and Ashley were reacting in horror at first. But as soon as they got into it, they began to laugh uproariously as they smeared the mess all over each other and even Tabitha, who was giggling along with them. The faculty aside, the whole school was gleefully participating in this glorious mess.

"You're crazy!" Tabitha screamed to Al as something whizzed by her head. "I love you!"

"Right back at ya! Heads up!" He threw another sloppy joe.

"Hey Kim!" Jenny squished her way over. "There's gonna be a party after school. You and Tabitha should totally come!"

Al smirked. It felt good to be the queen again.

 _Slorp, slorp, slorp._ Two goo-covered time travelers squelched their way into the girls locker room. Having decided they were both uncomfortable showering around teenage girls, they'd waited until everyone else had finished. That meant a long stretch of being sticky and gross and gave the food plenty of time to form an unpleasant second skin around them, but neither of them were in bad spirits. After spending a lot of the leap wound up and frustrated, a food fight had turned out to be just the release they'd needed.

"I always _wanted_ to say that!" Al chuckled, shaking his head as he slipped off his shoes, "I love food fights, Sam." He glanced over at Sam, who was grinning amiably but didn't respond. "You gonna wait for mold to grow on ya or what?"

Sam kept the grin but lowered his head. He wrung his hands. Something was on his mind.

"Sam?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sam admitted, "Al, I, um…I have something I have to tell you."

"What is it?" Al asked, growing concerned. Sam's smile had disappeared. "Is it about Walt?"

"No, nothing like that," Sam assured him, "It has nothing to do with the leap, it…has to do with you." Al knitted his brows. "But I think it's important that you know."

"Know what, Sam?"

Pacing, Sam squeezed his hands and pursed his lips nervously. "It's about the Vietnam War." He turned to face Al again. "The one you don't remember?"

"Yeah?" Al wasn't sure where this was going.

"Well you fought in that war, and…" Sam sighed. He hoped Al took this as well as he could. "And in 1967, your plane was shot down. And you were a prisoner of war until 1975."

There was nothing but silence in response. Al was staring at the floor now, brows furrowed, his mind racing. Sam waited with bated breath. Had he made the right call?

Al wasn't talking, so Sam spoke up. "I promised I wouldn't cut you out anymore, so…that's what I know." He shrugged half-heartedly, feeling guilty for bringing back such terrible memories.

More silence. Al studied the floor.

At last, Al's jaw slid to the side and he nodded. And then…a chuckle escaped his lips. "Well, that, uh…that certainly explains some things." He sighed in relief. "The dreams I was havin', I…I thought I was losin' it."

The knot finally loosened in Sam's stomach.

"I know this sounds strange, but…I feel like I already knew," Al explained, squinting pensively, "I just couldn't quite figure out what it was. And now it's like that final piece of my puzzle was put back together." He thought on it for a moment, then met his eyes gratefully. "Thank you for tellin' me, Sam."

Sam returned the grin. He was glad his instincts were right. Both of them felt more complete now.

Feeling he should make some sort of gesture, Sam extended his hand. Al looked down at it for a moment, accepted it, and then yanked his best friend in for a big, gooey hug.

Fireglow lit up laughing teenage faces as the crowd of students mingled and swayed to the music. The party was located in a park on the outskirts of town; by the size of the turnout it wasn't exactly "exclusive." But Tabitha was happy to be invited and that's all that mattered. Al felt she was finally becoming accepted.

He hoped things were going as well with Sam now. Funny he was having so much trouble tutoring someone. He was sure he was too far in his head about it like usual. Sam had this remarkable tendency to overcomplicate things. But pretty soon, Al was sure of it, he'd have that kid reciting history books; that's how good Sam was. Although…with any luck it'd happen after Sam and Al had met up again. Sam had theorized that because they were leaping on the same wavelengths now they wouldn't need to be touching to leap together, but Al didn't care to test that theory just yet.

Al didn't care for all the underage drinking going on around him either. Well, it's not like _he_ hadn't started drinking early, but still, things change when you're a semi-responsible adult. He wasn't gonna rat anyone out though. He wasn't a snitch either.

Anyway, he couldn't stop this party, not when Tabitha was having such a good time. She was even talking to Bobby. Al grinned. Way to go, Tabitha!

Walt scratched his head and looked over Laura's large bookshelf. "I'm surprised you invited me over, Laura," he said kind of sheepishly, "I mean, I kinda figured you didn't wanna talk to me again."

"Well, I've had some time to think it over, and I think…maybe I've been spending too much time being judgmental," Sam said remorsefully. He hadn't been acting any better than those kids at school. Tabitha wasn't much different than Walt. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'd like to start over and teach you some history…if that's okay." He grinned and offered his hand.

"Okay." Walt shook his hand excitedly; Sam's whole body wobbled with the force. He chuckled again. "I guess we were both on different wavelengths, huh? I was trying to determine velocity and you were trying to determine position, and we just got mixed up! Can't measure those at the same time."

Sam's face fell slack. "What did you just say?"

"Oh, uh…" Walt rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothin'. Just somethin' I read. Didn't mean to confuse you."

"Walt, that's the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle."

"Uhhh…yeah."

"…and you understood it?"

"Uhhh…yeah." Walt shrugged, "I dunno, that stuff has always interested me. It makes way more sense than any of this history junk. I always mix up all the people."

Flabbergast with shock, Sam started to chuckle with disbelief. He was into _quantum physics._

This changed everything. He had been so set on the idea that he and Walt were fundamentally different, he hadn't been able to see how alike they were. Walt wasn't stupid. Spacey, maybe, but not stupid. He just had other interests. And _that_ Sam could relate to.

Remembering something that had helped him when he was studying, Sam was struck with an idea. "Walt, would it help if you focused on the numbers? Not the people." Walt furrowed his brows. "For example, come up with something to associate with the date. You ever heard 'in 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue'?"

Walt's eyes widened. "Oh yeah…"

"So try something else. Like, uh...in 1863, the Emancipation Proclamation set the slaves free. In 1920, women voted plenty."

A lightbulb lit up over Walt's head. "Hey, that's good! I like that!" This was the most interested he'd been in the studying material since they'd started. "What else?" he asked enthusiastically.

Sam was onto something.

Tabitha felt like she was floating in a dream, like any minute now she would wake up in her real life. But this was better than a dream. Never in her wildest imaginations could she have dreamt up that in less than a week, she'd go from Scabby Tabby to being friends with Kimberly Matheson and…and having people _like_ her. And why had Kim suddenly changed her tune anyway? She always figured she hated her. Like everyone else up until now.

She pulled at her dress. It was so tight.

That's what Bobby West liked. He'd said as much to her. She'd always remember exactly how he said it. Bobby _said_ something to _her_. He _saw_ her. He had a good time with her!

It was the first grade. That's when she'd first started noticing boys, when she'd realized she was in love with him. She'd imagined what their marriage would be like…if he ever knew who she was. Which he didn't. Until he did, and she was Scabby Tabby.

Now he _liked her dress_. He liked _her_!

He handed her another beer. She'd lost count of how many this was now, only she found it a bit difficult to walk straight as he took her by the hand and led her toward the other side of the park. Behind some trees, away from the crowd.

Alone, under the stars.

She was still dreaming.

She couldn't believe it when Bobby reached out and cupped her face with his hand. His perfect mouth turned into a perfect smile. "Tabitha, you're different than other girls."

"A-Am I?" Tabitha nervously giggled.

"Yeah," he said. He bit his bottom lip and studied hers. "I never noticed it before. You were always so quiet, and now it's like…I'm finally seeing you." Tabitha giggled again, but it was only a shaky breath. He took her face with his other hand and turned her head upwards. "I think…I think I love you."

Tabitha's eyes were huge, afraid, and exhilarated. Her dream had come true! The alcohol had made her a little bolder, but she still found herself struggling to say what she'd wanted to for so long. Body shaking like a leaf, she breathed, "I…I love you too, Bobby West."

Bobby leaned in, she closed her eyes, and their lips met. It was the perfect kiss, just like she'd imagined…and her first. She hoped it never ended.

The back of her eyelids lit up with a flash. She opened them to see Chad standing there with a camera, laughing uproariously.

A snicker. Bobby pushed her away and joined Chad, wrapping his arm around him. The lump in Tabitha's throat sunk deep down into her stomach. Her gallant hero was twisting into an unrecognizable ghoul.

"' _Oh Bobby, I love you,'_ " Chad said in mock falsetto, and Bobby only laughed harder, "That's classic! I only wish I'd gotten it on video!"

"I can't believe Scabby Tabby fell for it!" Bobby exclaimed with amusement, "She's so gullible!"

Things hadn't changed. They hadn't changed at all. Bobby didn't love her. He _hated_ her. Everyone hated her! This whole thing had been one huge joke at her expense!

"How could you do this?" Tabitha sobbed meekly, tears already streaming down her face, "I thought you cared about me!"

"You kiddin' me?" Bobby laughed, "Nobody cares about you! I didn't even like kissing you!"

"We're gonna put these up all over the school," Chad said, waving the camera in the air, "'Scabby Tabby in Love'!"

"Scabby Tabby! Scabby Tabby! Scabby Tabby!" they chanted it together. The longer they did it, the more their heads began to swirl and transform, two giant, laughing, red faces. She stumbled to stand up straight. "SCABBY TABBY! SCABBY TABBY! SCABBY TABBY!"

Their voices faded into the dark as she ran as fast as her unsteady legs would take her.

Frick and Frack were yammering on about something again. Yeesh, how much longer would this take? Al was glad to be helping Tabitha and Walt, but this teenage girl shtick was wearing a little thin. Maybe he should try to find a payphone and call Sam, see how it was going.

A familiar sound reached his ears as a light from behind him lit up the girls' faces. He turned around to see St. John quickly enter the Imaging Chamber. From the upset look on his face, it wasn't good news. "Ah, Albert. We have a bit of a situation."

"What happened, the Queen call you up and cancel dinner?" Al muttered with a smart-ass grin.

"Huh?" Ashley asked.

"Nothin'." Al was already walking away. "I'm gonna get a drink!"

St. John joined his stride, looking even more annoyed than usual. "This is serious, Admiral. According to Ziggy, there's a 94.03% chance that in 17 minutes, Miss Pines is going to drive her vehicle off of King's Point."

"She's gonna drive off a cliff?!" Immediately, Al skidded to a complete halt. St. John's demeanor was a little understated for the situation. " _What_? How? Why? I thought I was just here to help her with her confidence!"

"Apparently there was more," St. John said with confusion, "Moments ago, Chad Peterson and Bobby West took some pictures kissing her; this upset her enough to attempt to drive. She's quite inebriated." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Albert, I don't know how Ziggy could have missed this."

"Never mind that now," Al ordered angrily; they'd worry about Miss Malfunction's major misfire later, "Where's Tabitha?"

"Still in the parking lot. If you hurry you might catch her."

 _Tabitha, Tabitha, c'mon, where are ya?_ Huffing and puffing, Al scanned the parking lot for the doomed young girl. She shouldn't be that hard to spot; she was wearing hot pink. If he ended up losing her because he didn't get to the parking lot in time, he'd never forgive himself.

He heard a jingle and spun around. Aha! There she was. Tabitha had just dropped her keys. He wasn't too late then! With a rush of adrenaline, he began to jog toward her. "Tabitha! Hey Tabitha, wait up!"

She had just retrieved the keys and put them in the door. She glared at him through puffy red eyes. "Just stay away from me, Kim! I should've known better than to trust you!"

Not this again. Every time he was making progress, something happened to make them slide backwards. "What're you talkin' about?" Al gasped, "I had nothin' to do with that. You gotta believe me!" He made it to the car just as she closed the door. Oh jeez, she was closing herself off again. He needed to get her out of the car. As calm as he could say it, he spoke through the window. "C'mon, let's talk about this. We're still friends, right?" He reached for the door handle, but she reached over and pushed the lock down. Realizing she was getting closer to leaving, he tapped his palms against the window more urgently. "Tabitha! You shouldn't be driving!"

"Go away!" She fumbled with the key, but eventually was able to turn the ignition. She was gonna take off!

Thinking fast, Al ran around the car to the other side. Luckily Tabitha was too drunk to react in time, and he managed to open the passenger side and slip in. "Tabitha. Listen. You're not thinking straight. This is a bad idea." Carefully, slowly, he reached for the keys.

"You can't stop me!" she sobbed. And before he knew it, she'd slammed her foot onto the gas.

Yikes! Al flew back into his seat as the car rocketed forward. She made a sharp turn and, with no seatbelt to hold him, his whole body jerked into the door. "Tabitha!" She was sobbing too loud to hear. His head received a big whack as he flew sideways again. "Ow!"

Well this had gone swimmingly. Good job, Calavicci.

Great, now he was stuck inside a car piloted by a scared, drunk little girl who was about to chuck herself off a cliff! Wasn't this supposed to be an easy leap? Well, it would've been if St. Stuckup and the Silicone Princess hadn't completely wanged it! He swore, next time he saw St. John, he was gonna—

" _Albert_ , I thought you were stopping her," St. John sighed disapprovingly. Helpful. Boy, if Al could, he'd wring his neck! There he was next to him, locked onto the car and tapping at the handlink. In contrast to his calm demeanor, Ziggy was having a fit. Good to know his salvation saw the urgency of the situation.

"What d'ya think I'm doin'?!" Al yelled as he protected his head. This was ridiculous! He reached wildly for his seatbelt.

"Oh this is no good," St. John sniffed, "Now according to Ziggy, Kimberly Matheson dies along with Tabitha Pines! You've really made things worse, you know."

That weasel. The seatbelt slipped out of Al's hands and he grabbed onto the dashboard. Once he'd steadied himself, he turned his ire toward the loathsome hologram. "What're you doin' standin' around here then? GET SAM!"

"Certainly," St. John responded with hooded eyes. He raised his palms. "Stay calm." Al was fuming. He'd give him calm! St. John nodded, pressed a few buttons, and popped out. Lordy, how did he land this job?

For the first time, Sam really felt like Walt was retaining the information he was giving him. And to think, all this time the solution was simply changing the way he was taught. Now that they'd switched methods, Walt was burning through the material! He was going to ace this test, no doubt about it. Sam told himself to have more faith in people he perceived as slow. Walt might just become one of the smarter people he'd met.

Someone cleared their throat and he looked to his left to see St. John. Walt was in the bathroom, which meant that for once this was perfect timing. "St. John," Sam said happily, "You won't believe this, but I think I figured out why Walt was failing. He—"

"That's all very well and good, Samuel, but I'm afraid Albert's leap isn't going quite as smoothly." He folded his hands in front of him.

"Why? What's going on?"

"In precisely fifteen minutes, he's going to fall off of a cliff."

Sam was instantly on his feet. "Excuse me?"

"Let's explain the details on the way, shall we?" St. John suggested, leaning forward, "He's just left the park."

"How am I supposed to get there in time?" Sam asked with worry, "I don't have a car!"

"Okay," Walt said cheerily as he returned from his break, clapping his hands together, "I think I'm ready to get into the 1800s."

There was his answer. Sam wished all of his solutions appeared so easily.

"Hey Walt," Sam said, his smile more of a grimace, "Do you wanna go to a party?"

"Stop the car!" Al pleaded with panic. "You're gonna kill us!" A pair of headlights blinded them and they both screamed as Tabitha dodged out of the way.

"What do you care if I die?" Tabitha sobbed, "You just think I'm a loser!"

"No I don't! I didn't know what those dickheads were planning, honest!" Holy cow, she was going fast!

"Oh yeah? Like you didn't plan to ditch me after school or let everyone laugh at me?" Tabitha shot back, "I bet you planned that with Chad too, didn't you? And you knew how much Bobby meant to me! You told him so he could take those pictures and make me look like an idiot!"

"No, I didn't!" Al shouted, keeping an eye on the road. He steadied himself again and tried to look as in control as possible. "Look," he said firmly, "I know it's easier to believe everyone's out to get you, but I really do care about you. And if you'd just stop sabotaging yourself you'd know that." Tabitha glanced his way, but kept driving. She sniffed. "I wouldn't have followed you into this car if I didn't care. And if you only believe one thing I say, please let it be this: no guy is worth killing yourself over. And especially not scum like Chad or Bobby!"

"Huh?" Tabitha's glassy eyes slid toward him in confusion, "Is…is that what you think I'm doing? Killing myself?"

Now Al was puzzled. "Isn't it?"

"No!" Tabitha sobbed, "I was just driving home!"

"Then it was just an accident?" Al held his stomach and sighed with relief. He knew Tabitha was smarter than that! "Thank god!"

"What?" Tabitha turned her head to look at him with bafflement.

"Tabitha, LOOK OUT!"

The cliff was just ahead and they were barreling straight toward it! Al grabbed the dashboard and braced himself for the worst, when suddenly a truck swerved in front of them out of nowhere. Tabitha screamed in terror and turned hard to the right, bringing their wild ride to a sudden stop when the car impacted with a tree.

The thunder of the crash was followed by the long, steady blare of the car horn, like a flatline. Heart beating intensely with panic, Al undid his seatbelt and reached for Tabitha. "Tabitha?" he gasped, "Tabby? Are you okay?" He couldn't let this girl get hurt under his watch. He was supposed to look out for her!

She was badly shaken but uninjured. She looked up toward Al, makeup running down her face, completely grief-stricken. Any trace of anger was gone. "I'm sorry, Kim! I'm sorry!" She sobbed loudly, then sucked in a loud wheeze of air. "I'm such a screw up! I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, it's okay." Oh jeez. Al reached out and pulled her into a deep hug; she shoved her head against him and cried into his chest. Cradling her trembling body in his arms, he stroked her hair and spoke softly. "Shhh, it's okay…you're okay…everything's gonna be okay…"

He looked up to see Sam and Walt hurriedly exiting the truck to help. As they reached the window, he lifted his hand telling them to stop. He needed to be alone with Tabitha, just for a while. Tabitha needed this.

As Tabitha's sobs died down, Al rocked her gently back and forth.

This was gonna end _now._

"There they are." Sam spotted Chad, Bobby, and their jock cronies helping themselves to more beer near the bonfire. He, Al, and Walt closed in without breaking stride, with Al taking the lead in all his righteous fury.

Bobby elbowed Chad when he caught sight of them, sniggering.

"Well look who it is," said Chad, staring lasciviously at Al, "I thought you'd left the party. Here for another roll in the hay?"

Al ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes; his voice was alarmingly soft. "You nozzles nearly got Tabitha killed tonight, so unless you hand over that camera in ten seconds, I'm gonna start swingin'."

Chad snorted. "Get real. You're just a little girl."

Before Al could respond, Walt stepped up to the two of them. With the larger boy towering over them, they seemed a little less confident. "She's got me."

"And me," Sam added.

"Big deal," Bobby dismissed with a shrug, "Two little girls and their boyfriend! You're not gonna take on the whole team." He looked behind him for support and the other jocks jeered.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," Sam said, "You might be surprised."

Chad rolled his eyes. "You're not gonna do—" He was stopped short by a knuckle sandwich, courtesy of Al. He wasn't playing around. Grasping his bleeding nose, he looked up with horror. "You hit me! What the hell?!"

When it came to follow through, the jocks were filled with hot air as usual. The actual threat of violence exposed their true cowardly tendencies and they shrunk back into the crowd. Bobby tried to made a run for it, but Walt strung out one of his meaty arms and clotheslined him.

"The camera, pizzaface," Al hissed.

Shaking with terror, Chad scrambled to pick up the camera and chucked it toward them. Sam caught it easily and opened it up, pulling out the film and dropping it into the fire.

"There! The stupid pictures are gone!" Chad said angrily (but still tinged with fear), wiping his nose. "Can you gimme my camera back now?"

Oh, he still had some balls. They were gonna get snipped off.

"Sure," Al answered calmly, "Laura?" He nodded toward Sam, who proceeded to drop the whole camera into the fire as well.

Chad's face contorted into a scowl. "Aw, c'mon! You bitches!"

Al stepped up closer and Chad instinctively backed away. Oh, he had a lot of things to say but not one ounce of courage to back it up. In a flash, Al's arm had whipped out and taken hold of Chad's final touchdown and squeezed as hard as he could. The boy screamed in agony, but couldn't slip away from Al's deadly grip. Looking him straight in the eye, Al warned, "You watch your back, Chad. Bobby." He looked toward Bobby who was still flat on his ass. "'Cause if you mess with Tabitha or any of us again, you're gonna find out what a real bitch is." He narrowed a single eye. "Got it?"

Chad nodded timidly. So did Bobby. "Got it," Bobby answered.

With a tight grin, Al released Chad's family jewels and led Sam and Walt out as the jocks considered a change of pants. Al had a feeling they wouldn't be trying any more stunts like that while Kim was around.

The night had felt much longer than 9 PM; the two teens and two time travelers had enough excitement to last a week at least. With the jocks taken care of, Tabitha's car towed away, and a fatal accident averted, they were ready to call it a night. Walt was kind enough to drive them to Tabitha's in his truck; he even insisted on walking her to the door with Al. He was endearingly protective of her after everything that had happened. Sam didn't think it was possible to like him any more than he had but Walt continued to surprise him.

As they were heading for Tabitha's door, Sam caught sight of another unexpected surprise. Hiding his grin, he hung back and let the others continue out of earshot.

Now unable to contain his excitement, he jogged over to the figure with a giant, open-mouthed smile. "Gooshie! Welcome back!"

The hologram turned beet red and stuttered bashfully. "O-Oh, th-thank you, Dr. Beckett! It's good to see you too!" He leaned sideways to get a look at the others in Tabitha's doorway. "It's especially nice to see Admiral Calavicci looking so well after…y'know." He closed one eye nervously. The last time he'd seen him was the Amazon.

Sam nodded in agreement. "Well that's thanks to you," he said gratefully. He hadn't had a proper chance to show his appreciation since last leap, so he was happy to have one now. "We wouldn't have made it without you."

Gooshie shrugged. "I was just doing what anyone would do…" Why was he always so nervous?

"Don't sell yourself short." Sam smiled warmly. "You're a hero."

Taken aback by the praise, Gooshie suddenly looked very humbled. "Thank you, Dr. Beckett." He was unused to such positive attention. Usually at the Project he was being yelled at or ordered around, at least as of late.

"So what brings you here now?" Sam asked curiously, "I thought Edward St. John the Fifth replaced you."

"Wellll…." Gooshie scratched at his mustache and danced around it for a moment. "Mr. St. John felt that since stretching his work so thin caused him to miss Tabitha's accident, he'd be better suited to leave Observing to someone else."

Sam was wearing a self-satisfied grin. "So they demoted him?"

"Those were your words, not mine," Gooshie admitted coyly with his palms raised. Sam laughed. He couldn't say he was sorry to see St. John go. The programmer folded his hands behind his back and bounced on his heels. "So, we're back to looking for a more permanent replacement." He nodded happily. He'd never admit it, but he was ecstatic to see St. John out of there too.

Sam could tell. Gooshie might've been a little terrified, but he liked being their hologram. And well, though Al would say otherwise, they liked having him around too.

"I think I know someone who's perfect for the job," Sam said with a hint.

"You do?" the programmer asked with genuine surprise and a little bit of disappointment, "Who?"

Sam's expression was obvious. "Gooshie. It's you."

"Me?" Gooshie blinked, then shook his head. "Oh no no no no, I'm just—I'm just a programmer. You need someone more, uh…you know, someone who…" He fumbled for the words. "Uh, what I mean is—"

"Gooshie," Sam said confidently, saving him from his stuttering, "Do you wanna be our permanent Observer?"

The programmer considered the invite carefully for a moment, scratching the back of his head. It was a big step for him. "Well, I mean…are you sure I'm qualified?"

Sam leaned forward, deadpan. "You know Ziggy better than any of us, you work on a time travel project, and you put up with us for 17 years. I think you're qualified."

Gooshie grinned. When he put it that way, it only made sense. "Okay then. I accept."

"Good. Now don't ever let St. John into the Imaging Chamber again."

"Agreed."

"Hey Laura!" Walt's booming voice jolted Sam awake after nearly falling asleep next to his locker. He'd had trouble falling asleep after the previous night's excitement, so he was running on less rest than usual. Walt didn't act very tired, but the bags under his eyes gave him away too. "You know if Tabitha's coming back to school today?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sam answered, pulling his hands down his face, "I don't think she was hurt from the crash."

"Good. Man, it's lucky we decided to take that shortcut to the party, huh? We never would've seen her otherwise!"

"Yeah, heh…lucky." Sam chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, noticing the stack of books in his arms. "What's all this?"

"Extra studying!" Walt beamed with excitement. "After that trick you taught me, suddenly it all makes sense. I stayed up late last night reading. When that big test comes up, I'll be ready!"

Sam was proud of him. Once he'd pushed him in the right direction, Walt was excelling on his own. "You're gonna do great."

"Thanks for teachin' me," Walt said gratefully. But then Sam noticed…the look again. That gooey eyed, love-struck look. The boy sidled closer and Sam was painfully aware of the hand placed on his shoulder. "But I'd still like to spend some time together, y'know, not studying. Maybe we can grab some dinner tonight?"

Okay, enough was enough. It was time for Sam to break it to him gently that there was no future for him and Laura. He didn't want to hurt his feelings too badly because he really did like him, but he didn't want to leave Laura to deal with a loose end he'd created by dodging the issue. He firmly but politely moved his hand. "Listen, um, Walt…" He paced away and twisted the bottoms of his palms together nervously. Do it quick, like a bandaid. "I think you're a really nice guy and all, but…I'm sorry, I just don't think a romance would work between us." He spun back to face him and hoped he'd let him down easy.

Walt turned red with embarrassed surprise. "Oh—I—did you?" He pointed at himself, at Sam, in several directions, then groaned and held his chest. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression! I don't wanna date you, Laura; I just wanna be your friend."

Oh. Oh?

Sam felt a little sheepish for assuming, but then…maybe a little insulted? What was wrong with Laura anyway? Trying to play it off, he asked, "You don't? Why, um," he leaned against the locker casually and cleared his throat, pretending to inspect his nails, "Why not?"

Walt ducked his head, a little shy. "You're super and all, but…you're just not my type." He shrugged apologetically. "You're kinda…" He struggled to find how to answer, flailing his hand in Sam's general direction.

Ohhh, _now_ he got it. Because Laura was plain and smart, not flashy like Kim or her friends. Trying not to look hurt, Sam nodded. "I see…not interested in a bookworm."

"It's not like that!" Walt said, sensing the direction this was heading, "I love bookworms! It's just, well…here." He set down his books and took off his bag, rooting through it and pulling out a magazine. Handing it to Sam, he lifted a single shoulder and explained, " _This_ is more my type."

When Sam got a look at the magazine his face fell slack and his jaw dropped.

It was TIME Magazine. The cover: Nobel Prize-winning physicist Dr. Sam Beckett.

He didn't have any other reaction in him other than to laugh.

Tabitha was sore, miserable, and mortified. She wasn't sure how she could face any of her peers after what had happened, but she knew she wasn't the popular girl in pink anymore. She'd slipped into her old clothes and makeup and…well, admittedly it felt good to be able to breathe in her outfit again. Even if it meant being Scabby Tabby.

Staying as small as she could to be able to get to class unnoticed, she stopped when she spotted Kim across the hall. Her eyes went wide with astonishment.

Kim was dressed like her. All in black, dark makeup. She looked…she looked like Elvira. And she was smiling proudly and waving her over.

Al had been going about this entire leap wrong. Tabitha wouldn't have been put in danger if he had just ignored St. John and gone with his instincts, instead of trying to impress people who didn't really care about them. Jenny and Ashley, Chad and Bobby…they were all losers. So what if they liked Tabitha or Kim? They weren't friends. They weren't even decent people.

Tabitha approached him cautiously, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "What're you doing, Kim?"

"Well," Al said, leaning his head forward emphatically, "I realized when I was trying to help you I was thinkin' about what I liked, and what I should've been thinking of was what you liked."

"But nobody _else_ likes what I like."

Al put a hand on her shoulder and grinned confidently. "Tabitha, this is high school. And the first thing everyone learns when they leave it is that all of these politics, the popularity contests, the drama, it doesn't mean squat once you graduate. Being popular isn't important. You could have a million friends and still be unsatisfied. The most important thing is being happy with yourself. And…and I needed to learn that lesson too, I think." He spread out his arms and displayed his new outfit. "So here's to being unpopular and happy! What do you say?"

Tabitha pursed her lips together, her mouth curling into a genuine smile. For the first time this leap, she seemed sure of herself. "I'd like that very much."

A beaming Sam watched the exchanged from the lockers across from them. Walt said his goodbye and headed for class, but Sam lingered behind and hugged himself proudly. They'd done good. It was no surprise to hear the Imaging Chamber open up beside him.

"Good job, Dr. Beckett!" Gooshie praised him, "According to Ziggy, Walt graduates and is currently majoring in quantum physics at MIT. You did it!"

Way to go, Walt. A man after his own heart. "That's great. What about Tabitha?"

"Well, she and Kim remain friends, and it seems Kim becomes closer with her sister. See?" Sam looked over as Gooshie pressed in a few keys, the handlink projecting a picture above it. Another of Kim's polaroids, but this time of her and her sister in a college courtyard, laughing shoulder-to-shoulder. It seemed they'd helped mend their relationship too. Cutting ties with Kim's old "friends" probably helped her see what was really important. "You two should be leaping any minute now!"

Sam smiled. "I know."

Looking across the hall again, he met Al's eyes that held the same certainty. Their jobs were done and time was calling them to right another wrong. Not bad for a couple of girls.

Al threw Sam a wave and they leaped.


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay, that's it!" Al threw open the door to his cabin and immediately began to loosen his tie, "I have HAD IT!"

Sam wasn't far behind. " _You've_ had it?" he said incredulously, "You're not the one who had to deal with Prince What's His Name!"

"Oh c'mon, he likes you!" Al dismissed, yanking off his tie.

"Oh sure, I just love hearing all of his boring stories about his ten brothers and sisters," Sam sighed with wide eyes, "And let's not forget his tales about his various gross health problems; those are classics."

"Yeah?" Al ripped off his jacket and tossed it aside with annoyance. "Well I've had to listen to you complain about it all leap! I've lived the horror of it vicariously through you."

Offended, Sam placed his hand over his blazer. "You've had to listen to _me_ complain? You haven't stopped bitching since we got here!" He groaned and did and spin. "Ohhh, I hate this ship!"

"What're you doing in here anyway?" Al asked with irritation, "This is _my_ cabin! Can't you gimme any space?"

Sam stared at Al for a moment, analyzing his friend, hand placed on his hip. Something had definitely stuck in his craw. "What's with you?" Sam asked, gesturing toward him, "All leap you've been acting like something crawled up your you-know-what and died there."

Al tilted his head. A pause. Finally, he stomped over to Sam and lifted his chin up. "I'm sick of seeing your face, Sam!" he yelled, poking him in the chest, "We've been stuck on this ship for two weeks, the leap before that we were holed up in some hotel room, and I just—I just need a break!"

"For once we agree," Sam shot back, turning away. He exhaled deeply and threw back his head. "I mean, I've been leaping alone for seven years and now I've gotta see you 24/7. It's too much!"

"Right." Al nodded, running his hand through his hair and trying to strategize. He flapped his hand toward Sam. "We've gotta set some ground rules so can stand each other."

"Like what?"

"Like, uh…" Al wiped his nose as he thought. "Like you stop leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor when we have a leap where we're living together."

Sam squinted. "Okay, okay, well if I do that then you have to stop wiping your nose with your hand."

Al still had his fingers under his nose, mid-wipe. "I don't do that."

"You're doing it right now! It's disgusting!"

"You wanna talk about disgusting? You do the one cheek sneak while you're sleeping!"

"Oh that's mature. Hey, why don't you tell me a story about some woman you slept with who had a gas problem?"

"That's it, I—"

The door flew open and the two of them, nearly nose-to-nose, turned to see the messenger as they peeked inside. "Great news! The peace treaty was signed! Come celebrate with us!"

At least there was one dispute ended. The door closed again.

"If I have to hear another story about one of your one night stands, I'm gonna lose it."

"Sorry, Mr. Prudent Prince, I'll stop telling my stories when you—"

The blue light disappeared and Al's finger poked into Sam's chest again. "—remove that stick from your ass!"

"Al."

"I thought you _liked_ my stories," Al complained, sore, "They add a little color to the conversation. What's wrong with that?"

"Al."

"You're just jealous because I have a life. Or at least I did, before—"

"Al, shut up."

"What?" Al snapped, finally listening.

Sam was staring. "Look where we are."

His annoyance turning to confusion, Al pivoted around to take in their surroundings. Once he realized where they were, his eyes bugged out of his head. No. This couldn't be.

Everything was blue. The floor, the walls, the ceiling. That is, except for the pads on the floor and the various bits of machinery. It was unmistakable. This was the Accelerator Chamber.

This was Project Quantum Leap.

The two of them gaped at each other, speechless.

"We're home?" Al gasped.

"We're home," Sam confirmed, a slow smile overtaking his face.

"AHAHAHA, YES!" Al bounced up and down excitedly, grasping Sam by the shoulders, "Sam, we did it! We leaped home!"

"I can't believe it!" Sam said, dumbfounded but overjoyed, "How? How did we do it?"

"I dunno, they must've figured out how to retrieve us! Hot damn, I knew Sammy Jo could do it!" Al yelled again and threw his fist into the air. Sam was still in a daze.

The door slid open and Gooshie stepped inside. It was surreal to see him in the flesh. "A-Am I interrupting something?"

"Gooshie!" Sam exclaimed, throwing out his arms, "We did it!"

Gooshie shrunk back a little. "Did what?"

"We lea—" Sam stopped himself, then shot a look toward Al. From Gooshie's expression, he didn't seem to know what they were talking about, which gave them both a sinking feeling.

Maybe they hadn't been retrieved at all.

Sam didn't want that to be the case, but he had to test this theory. "Gooshie, uh, have you updated Ziggy lately?"

"What're you talking about?" Gooshie asked, confused, "Who's Ziggy?"

Oh no. Sam and Al were slack-jawed again.

"Are you two feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Al said, trying to cover up his shock, "It's just, uh, been a long day."

"I hear ya," Gooshie agreed, appearing to buy it, "I'm gonna need my fourth cup of coffee soon." Chuckling, he pulled out a neon orange clipboard from his coat and handed it to Al. "Here's the checklist you asked for, Dr. Beckett." And he was out.

Al stood frozen for a moment. "Dr. Beckett?"

He and Sam whipped lightning fast toward each other, mirroring each others expressions of dawning panic. It couldn't be. Sam's eyes wandered to Al's outfit: a plain white button-down and black slacks. Al's eyes wandered to Sam's colorfully patterned shirt and teal pants. On his skinny tie, a small pair of red sunglasses.

"Oh boy!" they exclaimed.


End file.
